He did not reply.
"I'm sorry," I said, "that you've surrendered."
"Surrendered?" He winced as though I had cut him.
"Yes, surrendered. Haven't you sent for money? Haven't you given up? Aren't you trying to run away?"
Nort jumped from his place.
"No!" he shouted. "Ed Smith discharged me. I would rather cut off my right hand than work in the same county with him again."
"So you have balked at the first hurdle—and are going to run away!"
I have thought often since then of that perilous moment, of how much in Nort's future life turned upon it.
Nort's eyes, usually so blue and smiling, grew as black as night.
"What do you mean?" he asked.